


A Kiss of Victory

by cozywilde



Series: Smoochtober [11]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Kisses, Other, Sparring, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Kriik firmly believes that regular sparring is vital to remain strong. Zeshau enjoys it too, though perhaps for slightly different reasons.





	A Kiss of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> [Zeshau](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=54699&tab=dragon&did=52157825), the wild and excitable Lord of Beasts of the Fey Court  
[Kriik](https://toyhou.se/4285656.kriik), a powerful and duty-oriented hellhound

Zeshau paces across from Kriik, gleaming gold eyes narrowed in concentration. Theirs are just as focused as they walk a slow circle around each other, assessing each minute tensing of muscle for the signs of a coming attack. Zeshau drops into a loping half-crouch, faking a lunge to test Kriik’s reaction. 

Kriik almost falls for it, but holds themselves back when Zeshau gets no closer, all tightly-held muscle and control. Zeshau gives a shiver of delight to see it, always impressed by Kriik’s prowess. 

“You said this was to be a two-legs spar,” Kriik says flatly, without deviating from that deliberate, prowling walk. “You are on four legs.” 

“I’m on two feet and two  _ hands, _ ” Zeshau protests, but he levers himself up to standing again. In that moment, Kriik pounces. 

Zeshau lets himself be bowled over by the force of it, rolling with a loud huff as the air is knocked out of him. Kriik has him by the shoulders, clearly looking to pin him, so he kicks off the ground to keep them tumbling across the springy grass. He’s not looking to  _ pin  _ Kriik so much as  _ flatten  _ them, and so he lets his weight fall to the ground when he’s on top. He can tell he’s succeeded from the wheezy growl he hears, and can’t help laughing, bright and delighted. 

Kriik is not nearly so amused. They twist underneath him, sending a sharp elbow jabbing into his stomach that cuts his laughter off on a grunt as he takes the hit. It frees up just enough space for Kriik to hook a leg around him and heave, flipping him onto his back so that they can scramble to their feet while he’s winded. 

He’s not winded for long though, rolling to a crouch and immediately launching himself at Kriik’s legs to send them both crashing to the ground again. Kriik manages to grab his antlers before he can do better than bear-hugging their legs to keep them from pulling the same trick twice, and with Kriik braced against those too-convenient handles, they’re locked in an impasse. 

“Gotcha,” Zeshau says anyway, grinning wide enough to show all of his fangs. 

Kriik’s eyes narrow. “I have you as well.” They tug at his antlers for emphasis, making Zeshau groan low in his throat. Probably not the response Kriik was looking for, but they should know by now that Zeshau  _ loves  _ when they manhandle him. “We are  _ sparring, _ ” they remind him, and that particular no-nonsense face is one of Zeshau’s favorites. 

“And I’m winning,” Zeshau says gleefully, somersaulting forward. Kriik has to let go of his antlers or be pinned beneath them, and (regretfully) they choose the former. When Zeshau springs to his feet again, Kriik has managed to dart away, though the mystery of where exactly they’ve gone is short-lived. 

Kriik barrels into him from behind, locking their arms around his neck. His furry ruff keeps it from being too much of a chokehold, but when their legs lock around his waist, he knows he’s about to have some trouble. He’s proven right as they throw themselves forward, sending him to the ground underneath him and knocking the breath out of him  _ again.  _

They readjust their grip to brace one hand against his shoulder, the other grabbing an antler again to pull Zeshau’s head back to look at them. “Do you yield?” Kriik demands. 

Zeshau growls, even though it always ends up sounding more playful than intimidating with Kriik. “Never.” Kriik has neglected to restrain one of his arms, after all - with a shove he sends them rolling again. 

Somehow, at the end of it Kriik is on top of him, this time pinning  _ both  _ of Zeshau’s wrists under their hands. And they’re face to face, so at least Zeshau can enjoy how they’re panting from the effort of managing it. “Do you  _ yield? _ ” Kriik demands again, pressing down harder for emphasis. 

“Yes,” Zeshau says easily, and leans up to kiss them. 

With his heart still pounding from their sparring the kiss is thrilling - even more so for the way Kriik’s hands tighten on his wrists. Zeshau purrs encouragingly, and they kiss back, tentative and slow. Eventually they need to breathe, pulling back with a low gasp. 

“What… was that for?” Kriik asks. 

Zeshau grins, leaning up to nuzzle at their neck. “You won! So I congratulated you.” He follows his nuzzling with a long lick that makes Kriik shiver. “Should I keep congratulating you?” 

Kriik’s voice is wonderfully breathy - the only thing more captivating than their restraint is the moment they let it go. “I think you had better do so. I  _ did  _ win.” 


End file.
